Wellington landed in Portugal on April 22, 1809. Promptly marching northwards, he forced the passage of the Douro at Oporto with a cool audacity difficult to surpass, and drove Soult into the mountains with the loss of his artillery. Then returning to Lisbon he planned the defensive works which were to protect him whenever, as was sure to happen, the French pressed him with overwhelming strength. The map shows that Lisbon stands at the end of a broad tongue of land between the estuary of the Tagus and the sea. The city itself was not beyond the range of guns on the opposite shore; but ships could be trusted in case of need to keep at bay any enemy who might come dangerously near in this quarter. Across the tongue of land, some twenty-five miles north of Lisbon, a system of forts was constructed, taking advantage of the heights of Torres Vedras, and other inequalities of the ground. Another line, stronger both in form and armament, was drawn ten miles nearer Lisbon; thus even behind the inner line there was ample room for an army. Having ordered these works, Wellington concerted measures with the Spanish Junta for an advance into Spain. The plan agreed on was that Wellington in combination with Cuesta, who commanded the largest Spanish army, should move towards Madrid up the valley of the Tagus, while Venegas, with another Spanish army, approached Madrid from the south. He soon found out, by bitter experience, what the Spaniards were worth. The supplies promised to his army were never forthcoming, though the commissaries unblushingly asserted afterwards that the English had had double rations all the time. Cuesta was alternately foolhardy and timid, his men ready to yield to unmeaning panic; Venegas was incredibly dilatory: no trustworthy information could be obtained as to the French armies in the north. Marshal Victor, who faced the allied armies, retired at first to a point where he could prevent Venegas from joining Cuesta: then when he found that the English had halted (Wellington had positively refused to advance any further without supplies), and that Cuesta alone was following him, he turned to fight. The Spanish advanced guard broke and fled, and the whole army was soon in such a state of confusion and terror that Victor might have dispersed it, had not the nearest English division (Sherbrooke's) interposed. Wellington in vain urged Cuesta to retreat a few miles to the position at Talavera which he had already selected: the old man took a mulish delight in rejecting advice. When at dawn next morning the French approached, and Sherbrooke began to retire, Cuesta yielded to necessity, but solaced his insane pride by saying to his staff that he had first made the Englishman go down on his knees. He yielded however so completely as to take up the position Wellington assigned to him, though during the retreat a large part of Cuesta's army fled in wild panic on the near approach of some French horse.